


(for you) the sun will be shining

by leetlebird



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetlebird/pseuds/leetlebird
Summary: Kent is over two thousand miles away, but Jack feels like they’ve never been closer.





	(for you) the sun will be shining

**Author's Note:**

> this........... is fluff. i'm fine.
> 
> posting for pimms week, in celebration of my fave ship (ouch). the prompt for this day is "long distance". title from a fleetwood mac song that makes kent cry.
> 
> i think of this fic as "a list of ways jack feels loved", and if you like jackparse i hope it makes you feel good. <3

Jack has never thought he’s the kind of person who is cut out for a long-distance relationship.

He’s too shy, too quiet. No one would ever say he’s good at flirting, or even talking about his feelings. Those issues are compounded, not remedied, when he’s limited to communicating only through texts, Skype sessions, and phone calls. Add in the exhausting rigor of a professional hockey schedule and their different time zones, and most people would say Jack is doomed from the start when he and Parse decide to give things one more try.

Those people have probably never met Kent Parson, though.

There are some things Parse can’t give him. They aren’t dating publicly, mostly because Kent isn’t out and might never be until he retires. Skype sex can only go so far. No matter how much they talk about it and how many self-help articles Jack pointedly sends Kent after a bad argument, Kent will probably never be able to completely change the way he gets mean when his abandonment issues are kicked into high gear. Sometimes, Jack thinks the worst part is that he hasn’t been able to hold his boyfriend’s hand in months. 

But none of that really matters, because Jack’s life has never been fuller. Every day that passes brings another reminder of how much Jack gets from Kent, even with two thousand and seven hundred miles between them.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Jack:** You didn’t watch the game, right?

**Kent:** nah not yet, practice and charity stuff. i’ll watch highlights later 2nite tho  <3

**Jack:** Honestly, for this one I’d rather you didn’t. Let’s just pretend it never happened. 

**Kent:** next one’s yours *thumbs up emoji*

**Kent:** [Image Attached]

**Kent:** have a good night babe *peach emoji* *water droplets emoji*

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


On February 12, Jack has to sign for a package. There’s a card, _Happy V-Day to the one who took my V-card!_ , which makes Jack laugh, and a specialty Aces jersey, pink and with the spade turned upside-down to make a heart. Kent’s name and number are on the back, which is fine because there’s no way Jack would wear this outside of the house anyway.

Jack strips down to nothing in front of the mirror in his master bathroom, then slips the jersey on. There’s always been something scary about sending nudes, he thinks, the possibility of hackers or the kind of betrayal he doesn’t want to even think about.

He’s never saved any of the pictures Kent sends, too nervous about what could happen if they’re discovered. But Kent sends a lot.

When Jack finally sends the picture, he follows it up with a message -- _”Your present came early, so I thought I’d return the favor. Happy Valentine’s Day.”_

The jersey is soft against Jack’s shoulders, and there’s something about wearing it that makes him feel close to Parse.

He keeps it on all day.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Kent:** congrats babe :)

**Jack:** Thanks.

**Jack:** Maybe we’ll meet in the Final this year. That’d be pretty neat.

**Kent:** don’t jinx me, we haven’t even qualified yet!

**Kent:** i’m really proud of you though. for real.

**Jack:** I miss you.

**Jack:** I wish you were here.

**Kent:** amazon sells a lifesize cardboard cutout of me just saying

**Jack:** Not sure I miss you quite that much.

**Kent:** :(

**Jack:** Aw, you’ll be okay. 

**Jack:** I love you :)

**Kent:** love you too babe

**Jack:** Now go to bed. Two more wins till you clinch; you need your rest.

**Kent:** i’ll go to bed when i’m good and ready

**Kent:** get out of here with your semicolon

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


On a Sunday morning, Jack’s phone buzzes on the kitchen table. Kent’s sent him a picture -- not over Snapchat, but as a text, which means it’s special. Kent knows Jack has no idea how to screenshot things.

In the picture, Kit is sprawled out across Jack’s old Samwell jersey, tummy up and eyes squinting in contentment. Jack’s smiling even before he reads the accompanying text.

**Kent:** literally just out of the dryer so of course she had to get cat hair all over it again *facepalm emoji*

Jack starts typing out a reply, but then his throat gets tight and he has to stop. That’s the jersey Kent stole from Jack’s dorm room before they were talking again. Jack knows, as much as Kent’s been embarrassed about it, that Kent had carefully kept it safe all those years, something he could bury his face in for comfort when he needed to smell Jack. Kent had almost cried the last time Jack was in Vegas, when Jack put the jersey on without being asked and wore it around Kent’s place so it would smell like him again.

It means something if Kent’s finally ready to wash it. Jack feels like his heart is swelling, and he has to cough a little to get back to normal.

**Jack:** Some things never change, eh?

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**New Voicemail**

From: Kent Parson

3:20 A.M.

“Zimms! Zimmssssss. Zimms. I love you.

The jello here is pink and, like, glowing, babe. It made me think of you because you like jello. Do you like jello? Everyone likes jello. 

I miss you so much. Oh my god. I think there’s, like, sex drugs in this jello shit ‘cause, like, I keep thinking about your mouth, oh my god, like -- Zimms. You live _so_ far away from me. It’s fucked up. 

Troy! TroyTroyTroy. Here, this is Jack, tell him you love him. Hahaha.

\-- _You know what, dude, I’m good._

Aw, come on, Troy. Ah! Zimms, I love you so much. So fucking much. You know what’s funny? I keep thinking I want my dick in your mouth, but I can’t, and now I’m sad. But I love you. Troy, tell Zimms you like his dick. Tell him he has a pretty dick.

\-- _Uh._

Haha, you can’t. ‘Cause you’ve never seen it. Sucks for you, it’s like the hottest dick in the world. Ten out of ten. A hundred out of ten.

Zimms, remember how we said we’d go to France together? We should do it. I wanna do everything with you. Why are you so far -- Troy, nooooo --

\-- _Okay, bye Jack. Parse is going to bed now._ ”

  


  


  


  


As far as coming out to a teammate goes, it’s not as classy as how Jack did it, but he supposes it gets the job done. He texts Kent a row of those sparkling heart emojis that Kent likes for some reason, and sends Troy a (hopefully) stern warning to be nice to Kent, to keep his mouth shut if Kent doesn’t say otherwise, and to please keep Kent hydrated that day.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Jack gets home from practice and crashes immediately. He wakes up two hours later to a flurry of unread texts, which makes his heart beat way too fast until he skims them enough to see that there’s just something funny in one of Kent’s interviews with the Aces’ social media team. 

He reads through Shitty’s, Lardo’s, Ransom’s, and _both_ of his parents’ messages, but the only person who actually included a link to the interview is Ransom.

It’s a group interview. Kent’s sitting on a couch with Troy and the new goalie the Aces called up, Wills. Jack remembers Kent saying Wills is a nice kid. 

The whole video is a spin on the fact that Troy and his girlfriend are getting married in a few months. Each of the guys is challenged to write down a list of three things “someone” would need to know before getting married to one of the other guys in the group. 

Jack notices the use of the word “someone”. This is the first time a situation like this has come up since Kent came out to the team last week, and seeing the Aces’ social media team use gender-neutral terms makes Jack feel hopeful for Kent.

Anyway, Jack isn’t sure if he’s looking for the list Kent comes up with for Wills, or the list Troy comes up with for Kent. He watches the whole thing just to be sure -- not a real challenge when he gets to watch his boyfriend in his element like this, all cute and charismatic and funny. It makes Jack feel warm, and he misses Kent more than usual.

After Kent warns any future partners that Wills is bad at cooking, terrible at flirting, but great with kids, it’s Troy’s turn to describe Kent.

“What you’ve got to know about Parse,” Troy says, “is that he will _always_ be late because he takes too long in the morning; he always plays his music in the car and won’t take turns picking the song; and he’s definitely ready for commitment, based on the fact that I totally caught him looking at these awful, cutesy location weddings the other day. This dude is ready for someone to put a ring on it, I swear.”

Kent covers his face and shakes his head, groaning. Troy looks ridiculously pleased with himself. Wills is snickering.

And Jack -- Jack’s breath catches.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Halfway through the offseason, Jack gets a photo message while Kent’s on an island somewhere in the Caribbean. 

It’s halfway dark where Kent is, which somehow makes Jack sad. He’s used to being in a different time zone than Kent, but it’s strange to think about Kent experiencing a totally different time of day from Jack.

There’s nothing in the picture but gray sky, dark blue water, and Kent’s thumb, which is covering most of the top left corner. As far as composition goes, it sucks. There’s definitely a non-zero chance that Kent is drunk right now.

Kent’s added a message under the picture. _so fucking pretty here! miss you so much!_

Jack blinks hard, over and over. He saves the picture to his phone.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


On August 2, a package arrives. Jack doesn’t open it, because it’s not his birthday yet.

He reaches for the box first thing in the morning, before he’s even left his room to eat breakfast. There’s no card, just a beautiful leather journal and what looks like a bunch of scrap paper stapled together.

Jack pauses to smell the leather journal -- he closes his eyes; it’s exactly right. He’d told Kent he was hoping to get back into writing down his thoughts, something he’d started in therapy but had let fall to the wayside over the past few years. He doesn’t know if Kent had known how much Jack loves the smell of leather or if that had just been luck, but he has a feeling Kent somehow found out.

The pile of scrap paper is odd. Even at a glance, Jack can tell the papers are a mishmash of different sizes and textures. There’s a piece of paper stapled to the top of the pile -- Kent had written something there.

**I wrote these all over the past 5 years. They’re not all written to you or even about you but I still wanted to give them to you. Tried to put them in order but who knows. I’m giving them to you now but I want you to wait until your next birthday to read them.**

**I love you. Happy birthday.**

**Kenny**

Jack smells this one, too, because he’s feeling overfull of emotion and doesn’t know what else to do. It just smells like paper. 

He thumbs along the edge of the stack. It would be so easy to start reading now. Kent would never know unless Jack told him. So easy, and Jack wants it so badly, to open the pages and see into Kent’s heart.

It’s strange, and a little unfair, for Kent to give him a present he can’t really have, at least not yet. And Kent would never know.

But as Jack touches Kent’s name on the page, feeling the slight indentation where Kent had pressed down with the pen, he thinks that’s part of the gift. The waiting, and the trust. That Kent would give him these at all, and do it before he’s completely ready. That he trusts that Jack will wait.

He wants to text Kent something that expresses precisely what he’s feeling, that he understands what Kent has given him, but he doesn’t know if that’s even possible. Still, Jack pulls out his phone; he smiles when he sees the birthday wishes Kent sent at two in the morning while Jack was still sleeping.

Jack has never been good with words -- that’s part of why he’d needed to write his feelings down after the overdose. But if he’s learned anything in the time he’s spent falling in love with Kent, and especially in the time he’s spent staying in love with Kent, it’s that he needs to share what he’s feeling. 

**Jack:** Thank you so much for the journal, Kent. It’s exactly what I needed. And thank you for your other gift, too. I wish I could put into words how much it means to me, but I don’t know what I could say. I understand what it means that you’re giving these to me.

**Jack:** I love you too. And I’m looking forward to our skype date tonight. :)

He knows Kent is still sleeping, so he doesn’t wait around for a response. It’s up there as one of the cheesiest things he’s ever done, but Jack kisses Kent’s letters before he tucks them into his Kent drawer. 

There’s a whole day in front of him now, and after that, a whole year. Jack looks in the mirror. He’s twenty-eight years old, and he’s never felt more certain that he’s exactly the person he’s supposed to be.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


A few days before Kent’s bye week starts, Jack gets a forward from Kent in his inbox.

* * * * * 

**To:** Jack Zimmermann, jlzimms@gmail.com  
 **From:** Kent Parson, itskentbitch90@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** Frw: Delta Airlines Flight Confirmation: R6ZY3S

Thank you for choosing Delta Airlines. This notice contains information to help you prepare for your travels. Please review this information carefully, and contact us immediately if you have any questions or believe you see any errors. For your convenience, please print a copy to bring with you to the airport.

Your confirmation code: R67ZY3S

**Flight**  
Tuesday, October 22, 2018  
Las Vegas, NV - McCarran International Airport - 2:25 PM  
Detroit, MI - Detroit Metropolitan Airport - 9:25 PM  
_Duration:_ 04 hr 00 min

Detroit, MI - Detroit Metropolitan Airport - 10:05 PM  
Providence, RI - T.F. Green Airport - 11:58 PM  
_Duration:_ 01 hr 53 min

Please be aware that flight times may be subject to change. Online check-in will begin 24 hours before your flight! We recommend that you arrive at the airport at least 2 hours before your flight in order to successfully pass through all security checkpoints. Thank you for traveling with Delta Airlines.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Hi Jack,

Troy told me that his parents used to write love letters back and forth. For years. They have them in this 3 ring binder situation and I guess they read some of them at their wedding? Idk Troy made it sound really cute. So now I’m thinking, how would you like your very own love letter?

(I’m so bad at writing so I hope you really value all the work that goes into this.)

So the other day we talked about our first date. It was kinda funny how we didn’t even remember the same day since everything was all weird back then so we didn’t even know what counted as our actual first date. But then even when we talked about the same actual days our memories were sort of different. 

So that made me think about the first time we met. I don’t really remember it clearly because I met pretty much the whole team at once but I can tell you about the first super clear memory I have with you. 

We went out for ice cream. I can’t remember the name of the place because it wasn’t our regular one but it was like a group of maybe five or six of us? Brayden and Joe were there for sure.

So we were all kind of crammed into this booth in the corner. I remember that I was across from you and there was almost no one else in the whole place. Just our group. We were really loud and you seemed like you wished you were somewhere else. I remember looking at you and thinking you looked like you were hiding in yourself like a turtle and the other guys were giving you some weird looks. 

I’m not gonna pretend I was like in love with you then. I’d known you for like four days and I don’t think we’d even talked yet. But I liked you. You were really quiet but not like in a snobby way and you always worked really hard. Even when you were a dick -- remember it was like the second day of practice when you were super rude to Harrison??? -- it just made me think you were cool. 

So yeah I didn’t know you were going to be the most important person in my life someday at that point. But I remember feeling like it was super important to make you feel more comfortable and to make sure you had a buddy when the rest of the guys were starting to look at you funny. So I started stealing your ice cream and being really annoying about it because I wanted you to laugh. I remember I thought about feeding you, like holding the spoon and putting it in your mouth since that would be funny but I didn’t do it because I thought it might actually make you feel embarrassed. 

(I did have emotional intelligence back then! Case closed.)

Anyway you started laughing and brightened up a little bit so the other guys decided to like you. Your welcome. And after we ran around and acted like dicks in the parking lot do you remember how we all went and sat at the outdoor tables? You sat next to me when we went there. You were all cute about it too like it made you nervous and you weren’t sure I’d want you there.

So this is a little embarrassing but it’s pretty much the point of me writing a love letter to admit this. That was actually when I got a crush on you. When you sat next to me. I remember looking at your hand on the table and getting that weird feeling of like I WANT THAT HAND and as soon as I realized that my stomach started feeling weird. You were asking me about hockey, I can’t even remember what and I was so nervous. You weren’t sitting close enough that we were touching but the air felt different once you sat down. I’m pretty sure we didn’t talk at all the rest of the night because I was so nervous. I wanted to make you laugh though. 

You were talking to one of the other guys and mentioned that you wanted to see Wedding Crashers because you’d never seen it. This might be creepy to admit but when we had a team movie night a couple weeks later I used all my leverage on Danno to make him choose Wedding Crashers as the first movie of the night. (And then you didn’t even like it but it’s not my fault your so picky.) 

I’m sorry this is kind of a shitty love letter. I’ll try to dig under the surface but you’re better at that than me. It’s hard to remember exactly what I felt about you at first because my feelings for you later were way stronger and kind of overshadowed everything else. But I want to try. 

You seemed really smart. Like you were super deep or something at least compared to the average teenage boy and I was always wondering what you were thinking. I remember I thought it would be the coolest thing if you trusted me enough to tell me what was going on in your head. And even though you had this awesome dry humor you didn’t smile very much. At least not at first. And I remember I really wanted to be close to you and make you smile. Honestly I liked that your smiles weren’t all over the place, it made them special. Maybe this is creepy but I remember thinking that if I spent a lot of time with you I’d be the one who got to hold onto your smiles. I liked knowing that I saw you smile more than anyone else. But that came later.

Okay so I probably have failed miserably at writing a real love letter. But I love you. I am going to accept the fact that I’m bad at explaining it and I’m bad at telling stories of when and why it all happened but I love you. And I’m really proud that I’ve loved you for so long. I know you don’t always like to talk about what it means that we spent a long time apart and how that time was way different for us like, emotionally, but I’m fine with it. I’m proud I loved you all that time and I’m happy I can give you that. :)

Kit loves you too by the way! She says hi.

Anyway you’d better save this letter so you can French kiss it every time you miss me. I don’t know what’s the nice romantic way you’re supposed to end a love letter, but I love you and I miss your dick. I like everything about you. Let me know what days you’re coming down here for your bye week! 

Love,  
Kenny

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Kent always sends pictures of himself to Jack. He sends multiple every day: a good-morning selfie, something goofy in the afternoon to show what he’s up to, usually a couple nudes in the evening, and if Jack’s lucky, a hilariously unflattering selfie (or six) after Kent’s thrown a few drinks back in a bar with his friends at one in the morning. 

Most of them go through Snapchat. Jack’s finally looked up how to screenshot those, and he saves pretty much all of them except the nudes. His favorite ones are what he privately refers to as the I Love My Emotional Boyfriend series -- a self-deprecating catalogue of selfies in which Kent documents every time he cries over something stupid, like the movie Freaky Friday or the sound of Kit snoring.

The day after the Falconers officially miss the playoffs, Jack’s favorite selfie series gets a new addition. 

_i’m losing it to songbird by fleetwood mac. whyyy am i so embarrassing._

Jack screenshots automatically. He looks fondly over the picture, at the tears catching on Kent’s eyelashes, the way his eyes shine green when he’s crying. Jack remembers when they were seventeen. He never saw Kent cry back then, not until after the overdose, and even that had only been for a few seconds before Kent got angry and left the room.

Jack had been the one who introduced Kent to Fleetwood Mac. He remembers that day; he’d been listening to Landslide while he did his homework, and Kent had asked what he was listening to. Jack had been so horrified by Kent’s ignorance that he’d sputtered incoherently for awhile, and then he’d spent the next three weeks forcing Kent to listen to every Fleetwood Mac song on record.

He remembers listening to Songbird with Kent. 

_That’s not embarrassing,_ he sends back. _That song always makes me get choked up._

Jack plays the song, then, and he wonders if Kent is listening to it again along with him.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


There have been a lot of videos, notes, pictures, and texts from Kent over the past couple years. A lot. And Jack, even more than he had realized at the time, has most of them carefully filed away -- if not on his phone, then at least in his memory.

But there’s nothing, _nothing_ that Kent has sent him that makes Jack feel the way this picture does. He’s seen it in real life, stared at it for so long it was ridiculous, touched it, kissed it, _picked_ it. 

A picture of Kent’s hand. He’s seen that hand so many times, loved the way it twines through Jack’s fingers, grabs Jack by the hair to pull him down for a kiss when they shower together, deftly holds a hockey stick, covers Kent’s mouth when he’s sleepy and curled up around Jack and laughing at nothing. 

Jack has never loved Kent’s hand the way he does now, seeing Jack’s ring on it.

_miss you baby <3 _ Kent has added, and Jack has to press the phone to his lips, has to breathe by himself until he’s ready to think about Kent without booking a plane ticket on the spot.

The emotions are so strong it’s like a physical pain, a dizziness. There is nothing Jack could say that would capture how he’s feeling, so he sends a simple _I love you_ because it’s true. It’s always going to be true. 

_i love you 10 yrs from now,_ Kent responds immediately, and Jack feels the truth of it, the foundation that he can always count on.

_I love you twenty years from now,_ he replies. He could be ashamed of how cheesy it is, or how competitive, but after the week he had in Vegas with Kent, he doesn’t know shame. Just hope, and warmth, and the overwhelming certainty that he finally knows where he’s going. 

_cool,_ Kent sends back, and he follows it with another photo of his hand. Jack laughs, keeps laughing until it’s too painful through the lump in his throat, and keeps looking at his fiance’s hand until his bedroom starts to get dark.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


They stay in New York together for the first month of the off-season. Jack keeps Kent well supplied with cocktails for the entire week leading up to his interview.

It’s a late-night talk show, and it’s mostly scripted. In between sangrias, Jack runs through the questions with Kent, over and over until Kent can get through it every time with identical ease.

The Cup-winning captain doesn’t usually land a spot on a primetime late-night couch, but Kent’s the closest thing the league has to an American superstar, and he has the famous cat to help him along. 

And -- well --

“Now Kent, do my eyes deceive me, or is that a little bit of bling-bling I see on your finger? Did you have a secret Vegas wedding?”

Kent laughs, and Jack feels like he’s going to float right out of his chair in the backstage viewing room. “Nah, not quite yet. He knows I’ll be mad if we don’t do a big fancy wedding.”

Jack exhales, shaky and scared and joyful. He watches Kent’s fingers tighten, just once, on the arm of his chair, and he has never felt more proud.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


They’re apart for all of six days before Kent forwards Jack confirmation of a one-way plane ticket from Vegas to Providence.

**Kent:** you didn’t think i’d let you celebrate your bday alone did you?

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**New Voicemail**

From: Kent Parson

8:42 P.M.

“Hey babe! Are you out with Shitty? I just realized that, oops.

So, I was thinking about the wedding. I get that you don’t want any Elvis impersonators there. That was a joke. I don’t really get what’s so horrible about a destination wedding, especially since most of our friends are literally professional hockey players and we could fly out the rest of them if money’s, like, an issue, but I’m over it. Just take a look at the Hawaii stuff I sent you and tell me what you think. 

But this. You’ll love this. I’m sending it to you right now. So it’s right in Providence, which is great, even though I know it’s not as cool as New York or Montreal. But Zimms, there is a _wishing well_ , and an arch with _roses_ , and a koi pond. No marriage is legitimate without fifty orange fish nearby. You need to see this honeymoon cottage that’s right on the property -- it would only be for the first night, so obviously we’re still going to Paris, but it’s so cute. There are three cats, Zimms. 

Oh, shit, plus you need to check out this venue in Vegas where you can get married on a carousel at the top of, like, a skyscraper. I know it’s a little out there but the carousel is really cute and it looks kind of old? I know you’re into historical details. This one doesn’t have cats, though. Haha.

Anyway, have fun with Shitty! Love you, love you, love you. I’ll -- what -- oh my god, are you sending me pics of your _bulge_ while you’re in a restaurant? Jaaaaack. 

I’m hanging up now. I fucking love you.”

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


Jack pulls the brim of his hat down a little lower. 

Airports are the easiest place to get recognized, and he doesn’t want to blush his way through any fan interactions today. There’s only one person he wants to talk to. 

He hides his face even further by busying himself with his phone. The birthday messages have slowed down by now, which is a relief. He’s beating Lardo at Words with Friends, which is frankly shocking and might actually be an informal birthday gift from Lardo, but he’ll take it.

A toddler screams, somewhere behind him, and his phone buzzes again. Jack takes one look at the screen and smiles.

**Kent:** i’m here!!!! where’s my man?

Jack doesn’t know how to describe where he is, so he just sends back, _Waiting for you._ Kent will find him, he knows. They’ve done this before.

Only this is the first time Jack has picked Kent up from the airport as his boyfriend, publicly. Jack corrects himself, _fiance_ , and the word feels holy as it rolls through him. They can be done with the bro hugs, the goodbyes that taste bitter in his throat the whole drive home from the coldness of it all, the sterility. 

Now, he looks up and sees Kent walking toward him. Now, he sees the exact moment Kent spots him, how everything about him brightens immediately. “Jack,” Kent says, letting go of his suitcase, “I need a massage when we get home; my ass hurts from that flight,” and he’s so lovely, so precious and _here_. He’s safe, and he’s just the same. 

“Hey, Kenny,” Jack says, trailing one hand through Kent’s hair and down the side of his face. The look in Kent’s eyes -- he wants to hold onto that forever. “I missed you.” 

“Yeah, Zimms. I know.” Kent smiles, soft under Jack’s touch. His eyes look blue in the light of the airport. “Missed you too.”


End file.
